of a luxurious Pullman, I sighed; and, with
the strange contradictoriness of the human mind, I felt sorry that
the old days had come to an end. For, somehow, the hardships and
deprivations which we have endured, lose their bitterness when they have
become only a memory.

CHAPTER XXVIII. CALIFORNIA AND NEVADA

A portion of our regiment was ordered to Oregon, to join General Howard,
who was conducting the Bannock Campaign, so I remained that summer in
San Francisco, to await my husband's return.

I could not break away from my Arizona habits. I wore only white
dresses, partly because I had no others which were in fashion, partly
because I had become imbued with a profound indifference to dress.

"They'll think you're a Mexican," said my New England aunt (who regarded
all foreigners with contempt). "Let them think," said I; "I almost wish
I were; for, after all, they are the only people who understand the
philosophy of living. Look at the tired faces of the women in your
streets," I added, "one never sees that sort of expression down below,
and I have made up my mind not to be caught by the whirlpool of advanced
civilization again."

Added to the white dresses, I smoked cigarettes, and slept all the
afternoons. I was in the bondage of tropical customs, and I had lapsed
back into a state of what my aunt called semi-barbarism.

"Let me enjoy this heavenly cool climate, and do not worry me," I
begged. I shuddered when I heard people complain of the cold winds of
the San Francisco summer. How do they dare tempt Fate, thought I, and I
wished them all in Ehrenberg or MacDowell for one summer. "I think they
might then know something about climate, and would have something to
complain about!"

How I revelled in the flowers, and all the luxuries of that delightful
city!

The headquarters of the Eighth was located at Benicia, and General
Kautz, our Colonel, invited me to pay a visit to his wife. A pleasant
boat-trip up the Sacramento River brought us to Benicia. Mrs. Kautz, a
handsome and accomplished Austrian, presided over her lovely army home
in a manner to captivate my fancy, and the luxury of their surroundings
almost made me speechless.

"The other side of army life," thought I.

A visit to Angel Island, one of the harbor defences, strengthened this
impression. Four years of life in the southern posts of Arizona had
almost made me believe that army life was indeed but "glittering
misery," as the Germans had